


Late Night Caller

by KidPhantomThief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek saving the day, Drunk Dialing, M/M, awkard stiles being awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidPhantomThief/pseuds/KidPhantomThief
Summary: Saw their number graffitied on a toilet stall au





	Late Night Caller

Stiles was drunk. Completely and utterly intoxicated. Smashed. Gone. Which is probably why he decided to call the number written in black sharpie on the bathroom stall. Normally he wouldn’t do stupid shit like that, but after two mixed drinks, 3 body shots, and an unknown sip of whatever shit Scott had, Stiles was up for anything. And after pissing for two minutes straight (a new record!) calling a random number just didn’t seem that bad.

Until the voice of a sex god answered. Granted, all he said was a rough ‘hello’ but he had Stiles hooked. He needed to think of something incredibly clever to say to ensure that this guy wouldn’t hang up. Which is why he said, in what he thought was an alluring voice but probably came out sounding slurred, “What are you wearing hot stuff?”

He was met with silence. Oh yea, he nailed it. “Speechless right? That’s how all the ladies are after I’m done with them.” Stiles said, swaying against the bathroom stall. Man, it looked like the black and white tiles on the ceiling were dancing but that couldn’t be right.

“Who are you?” Mr. Sex Voice asked, in a very rude tone, but Stiles ignored it. Instead he smiled, steadying himself against the metal box on the stall wall. It was cool to the touch and felt good against his overheated hand.

“The stuff of dreams. Your dreams to be exact,” he said with a lopsided smile. Stiles mentally high fived himself. Man he was so smooth, wait til Scott hears about this.

A loud sigh was heard before a gruff “How the fuck did you get this number?” Stiles blinked. Well obviously he conveniently left it on this bathroom stall wall and Stiles was the fortunate bystander to call it. Which is what he said, followed by a loud groan when he hit his wrist on the stupid metal box on the stall wall. He sounded like a dying moose, which is why he went into a fit of giggles, leaving the man on the phone to yell loudly in his ear about disturbing his sheep or something. Eventually the yelling died down and Stiles could vaguely hear another voice on the phone. Was that a girl? Did Stiles’ future husband already have a girlfriend? Why would he give out his phone number then? Ugh this always happened to Stiles. He gets attached only to find out it was all a lie.

“This random guy called me, apparently it was on the wall of a bathroom stall,” Mr. Sex on a Stick hissed to his womanly friend. Silence again until Sexy Mannip growled out a “What the fuck did you do?”

“I may have accidentally written your number on the wall after getting drunk last week,” the woman’s voice said which Godly Voice groaned at. “I don’t know how he got it though! I wrote it in the girls' bathroom!”

Stiles was barely listening though, more concerned with his throbbing wrist. God he hated metal objects. Why was it even there? He opened the lid to discover it was a trashcan. He always hated trash cans. Full of god damn trash.

The bathroom door opened and voices filtered in. Many voices. Many girl voices. Stiles seemed to sober up quickly when he realized what that meant. Shit. He looked around. No wonder it was so clean, that should have been his first realization to the mistake he made.

“Oh shit,” he whispered, the girlish voices getting closer to his stall. The phone was still up to his ear and he could hear the man of his dreams sigh deeply. He didn’t know what to do. Should he just leave now and chalk it up to being drunk. He would never be able to show his face in this bar again, and it was his favorite one. It was the only one in town that didn’t play shitty music and gave out good drinks during happy hour. He could also stay here, but the longer he stayed, the higher chance of being caught and labeled a peeping tom, which was way worse than just getting the wrong bathroom. He could actually get arrested.

“What do I do?” he asked himself panicking. “What do I do? Do I stay or leave? No windows, one door, one exit point, many witnesses. Shit shit shit.”

“You could just walk out?” If Stiles wasn’t still half drunk and in a girls bathroom, he would have laughed sarcastically, but as it were he couldn’t speak above a whisper for fear of getting noticed.

“That’s out of the questions because if I leave and they see me, I will be the laughing stock of this club and I’m already the laughing stock of my school-well not really, but it seems more dramatic that way. I like this club dude, I don’t want to stop coming because I was labeled as pervert.” Stiles jumped as the stall next to him slammed shut and he could hear the shuffling of clothes. Oh god, there was a girl in there and she was probably doing her business and here was Stiles, being a creep.

“Stay there,” the voice said over the phone, startling Stiles out of his mental freak out.

“Stay here? I can’t stay here!” he whispered, making sure that he couldn’t be heard as the three girls reapplied their makeup in front of the mirror. “I’ll be the laughing stock of the entire frat! Jackson will never let me live it down!”

“Frat boy? Should have figured.” his phone partner said, his voice sounding tired and choppy.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“It means I should have figured that it would be a college student to drunkenly call a random number on a bathroom stall.”

“Look, I live for adventure.”

“And an adventure is calling a phone number?” The voice sounded muffled, and Stiles alcohol addled brain felt a bit of disappointment. Sure he was annoying him really late at night, but Mr. Sexy Voice could at least give him some attention.

“We all have different comfort zones. Mine is talking to hot strangers since I am made of 100 percent awkward.” Stiles said watching as more girls seemed to filter in. There must of been a lull in the music because he couldn’t hear the bass of the speakers in the bathroom anymore. The other stalls became occupied and a line began to form. As each stall was used, he could sense more eyes on his, wondering what was taking him so long. He couldn’t leave now. Shit.

5 minutes passed and more girls filtered in and out. Then the knocking started. Right on his stall door.

“Is everything alright in there?” a girl asked but Stiles couldn’t say anything if he wanted to. He was just about to muster up his most girlish voice when there was a loud knock on the entrance to the bathrooms.

“Janitor. I need to clean up in there so can everybody vacate for 10 minutes. You can use the bathroom around the corner and up the stairs.” Groans were given as the girls slowly filtered out until only Stiles was there. Shit. This was even worse. If he was caught by an employee he would be kicked out and banned. The door opened, and footsteps walked slowly up to his stall.

“You can come out now.” the man’s voice said and Stiles grew wide eyed realizing who it was. Mr. Voice of his Wildest Dreams was outside his stall and here to rescue him. Stiles was in love. He slowly unlocked the door, hand wobbling as he realized that although he could think much clearer due to the situation, his body hadn’t caught up with his clear mind. The door opened and revealed the most perfect specimen of man to exist on the face of this planet, and Stiles had seen many examples. He was muscular and fit, like a sports star. His narrow hips widened to broad shoulders, and his jaw was set in a way that could cut glass. Stiles wanted to rub his face all over this man’s chest, but the scowl that graced the man’s features told him it would be a bad idea. At the present moment.

“You are my random late night caller I presume.” the man said, arms crossed over his deliciously toned chest. Stiles would give his own limbs to eat off his pecs, but kept that to himself.

“Uh hi? I Stiles. I mean I am Stiles. Hey,” he gave a nervous laugh, stepping slowly out of the stall. “Um thanks for rescuing me, you didn’t really have to-”

“No I didn’t. But my sister seemed to think that it was ultimately my fault that she wrote my number on the bathroom stall and so she ordered me to help you out.” Stiles stepped back. Rude. So maybe it isn’t the best way to meet people, but by writing his number on the wall, this dudes sister helped Stiles meet the man of his dreams.

“Um look, I am really sorry for disturbing you, and making you leave in the middle of the night to come get a half-drunk stranger out of a girls bathroom, but this half-drunk stranger is really happy that you did that, and would be even happier if you let him buy you dinner,” Stiles said, his nerves on fire, but tried not to let it show.

The other man didn’t say a word. Instead he cocked an eyebrow, taking in Stiles as if he was assessing a wild animal.

“I know how I look now might not be pleasant. Actually, I probably look like a mess, but it’s my best friend’s birthday and as his ‘brother from another mother’ it is my duty to get him shitfaced, and if that means I have to get shitfaced too then so be it. And it got him to talk to the girl he has been crushing on all year so that’s a mission accomplished in my book. But I can clean up pretty nice if I do say so myself. And even if you don’t want to go on a date with me, the dinner could be more of a ‘thanks for saving me from my own undoing’ dinner.” Stiles rambled on. Eventually, after another minute of spewing nonsense, the other man put his hand up and Stiles shut up immediately.

“If I agree, will you let me leave and get back to sleep?” Stiles smiled and nodded vigorously. And if he needed help, Stiles could do some other things too, but the other man already began to walk away. He walked quickly and Stiles had to jog to catch up, finally catching his wrist as he left the bar.

“Wait, when do you want to go? Where do you want to go? What kind of food do you like?” Stiles asked. He realized he didn’t even know the guys' name. The man stopped, staring down at the physical contact, but when Stiles let go, the man’s hand shot out to grab it back.

“I’ll text you. I have your number.” he smiled softly before giving it a squeeze. He left without another word, and Stiles could only stand there dumbfounded, feeling his hand burn from the contact.


End file.
